


Love Lines

by homeisabluebox



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 00:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16587326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homeisabluebox/pseuds/homeisabluebox
Summary: He felt warmth in his chest.  A soft, tingly feeling that started somewhere right between his hearts and radiated through his body, tickling his extremities and dancing across his face.  And then, in amongst the warmth and joy, he felt something else.  Something searing across his chest changing him and his makeup forever.





	Love Lines

“Blimey!” The Doctor exclaimed staring up at the woman in front of him. Ten minutes ago she’d been wearing 21st century London casual, and now she was decked out from head to toe in the 17th century’s best.

His eyes scanned her up and down, taking in the swirling hoop skirts with leather boots peeping out from under them, the way the corset accentuated her curves, and her elegant, upswept hair that complimented the beaming smile on her face. “You look beautiful,” he says, but the words stick in his throat as their eyes meet.

Her eyes. Her. Everything about her… it was perfect. She was perfect. She was Rose and she was absolutely everything he needed and wanted in all of the universe. And she was here in his Tardis and he wasn’t quite sure how that had happened but he was grateful to whatever higher power had led him to this moment.

He felt warmth in his chest. A soft, tingly feeling that started somewhere right between his hearts and radiated through his body, tickling his extremities and dancing across his face. And then, in amongst the warmth and joy, he felt something else. Something searing across his chest changing him and his makeup forever.

And he froze. His breath caught in his chest as he stilled. Not because it hurt, it really didn’t. There was some pain, yes, but it was a good kind of pain, the kind of pain that makes life worth living. But for the Doctor, the pain was a realization that made the warmth in his body turn to panic. It was a shock and an omen of more pain to come. His eyes darted around the console room looking for an escape. The whole world seemed frozen in that second, even Rose. He inhaled a shaky, panicked breath, and the movement of the universe resumed.

His hearts were pounding in his ears but he made himself turn back to Rose. What had he been saying? Oh, right, he had been telling her how beautiful she was. And she still was. Even in his panicked mind, he knew she was stunning. But he was no longer sure that he wanted her to know that he thought that. He needed to think of a way to fix this, and fast. “Considering.” He said aloud.

Rose gave him a puzzled look. He was glad to see she was moving at a normal pace again. Or maybe it had been him who had slowed down. “Considering what?” she asked.

“That you’re human.”

She looked hurt for a moment before shrugging it off. “I think that’s a compliment,” she said. Her eyes scanned his body, still wearing the clothes from their last adventure. “Aren’t you gonna… Doctor? What’s that on your chest?”

His eyes followed hers downward and he noticed the pink lines peaking up past the neckline of his jumper. “Why do they have to be so damn noticeable,” he thought to himself. And then aloud, “You’re right, Rose, it seems that I have a splodge of jam on my jumper. Let me go change. I’ll be back in just a tick.”

“No, Doctor, I was talking about...”

He ignored her, pulling himself up from the hole he had made in the floor to get to some of the Tardis’ wiring, sidestepped around her large skirts, and ducked down the hallway that led to his room.

He sighed as the door to his room closed behind him. He turned and faced the mirror, pulling off his jumper as he did so. He was greeted with the site of a grumpy, emotionally distressed Time Lord staring back at him. The same thing he saw every day, or at least as often as he bothered to look in the mirror. Just one thing was different, one thing which sent more bolts of joy and panic coursing through his body: his torso was covered in an ornate pattern of swirly lines. Pink swirly lines to be more specific.

The lines all appeared to be coming from a point in the center of his chest, just between his hearts. They spiraled across his body, the top ones ending just below his shoulders and the bottom ones... he wasn't sure how far down they went. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. He sank down on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands. This was... big, and he wasn't quite sure what to think.

His chest was covered in love lines, an aspect of Time Lord biology he had yet to experience before. He was nine hundred years old, and most Time Lords had gained a set by their one hundred and fiftieth birthday. But not him. The Doctor had never been in love before, and that's what love lines were: an outward expression of romantic love for another. Some of the first Time Lords had developed them when they realized just how long their lifespans were. With the potential to live for millennia, it was easy for a Time Lord to lose touch with their emotions. The love lines were designed to stop that, and to keep a Time Lord in touch with their raw emotions through visual reminders painted across their bodies; reminders that would stay with them through every regeneration. Love and loss are powerful emotions, ones that make a person who they are. And the love lines served as an everlasting connection to every person the Time Lord had loved before, including those lost to them forever.

Platonic love was something the Doctor had felt plenty, he had loved almost every person who had set foot in his Tardis. But he had never loved someone in the way most people experience love, with butterflies in their stomach and a giddiness whenever the other person smiled. He hadn't experienced that, not until he met Rose. Rose was different. He didn't know why, he didn't know how, and frankly he didn't care. He had felt himself falling for her ever since they met and when he looked in her eyes just a few minutes ago he knew he loved her. And the love lines that had blossomed across his chest when their eyes met proved it.

But she had seen them, and that wasn't something he wanted. Up until 5 minutes ago, he wasn't even one hundred percent sure he had the capacity for love. He spent his younger years just waiting to fall in love, and when never did he thought maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe he was broken. Maybe something had gone wrong in the looming process that created him and he didn't have the capacity for romantic love. By the time he was five hundred, he stopped caring. And then after the Time War, he was almost glad he didn't have any since the lack of Love Lines allowed him to blend in with other species better, especially humans.

He decided that he couldn't tell Rose what the lines meant. Not now anyway. He needed time to adjust to the idea. The idea that not only had he finally fallen in love but that he was in love with her, the young human woman he had only met four days prior. And that was another part of the problem: she was human. She would wither and die long before he would, and that was even if she chose to spend the rest of her life with him. He loved her, that was for certain, but he honestly couldn't say what she felt about him. He didn't know how long she would stay with him. What was this to her, the traveling? Was it just going to be a month of fun before she went back to her normal life? Or would she want to stay with him? And besides, he had to think about her feelings too. He had never really understood human emotions but he was pretty sure that she wouldn't take to well to a nine-hundred-year-old alien confessing his love to her.

Whatever the answers were, she couldn't know what the lines really were. "She can't know. She can't know. She can't know. She can't know. She can't know." He changed the phrase over and over as he picked himself off his bed and shuffled over to his closet. He thumbed through all his jumpers, looking for the one with the highest neckline. He needed to hide these lines. He finally found a burgundy jumper that just barely covered the lines. He shrugged his jacket back on, took a deep breath, and bounded out the door back towards Rose and the console room.

"Alright, Rose! Are you ready? The past awaits!" She gave him a strange look and a small shake of her head before dutifully following him to the door. He held it open for her, she stepped out into the snow, and all the awkwardness and emotion of the last ten minutes was forgotten as they beheld a snowy Christmas Eve a century and a half into the past.

………………………….

He almost tells her after they meet the Dalek and after he almost loses her. He almost does, but he doesn’t. It just doesn’t feel right. He wants to tell her the day she comes stumbling on board with a big red backpack, clearly, she wants to stay with him. But he still can’t. He doesn’t know how. Some secrets are easier to keep he decides.

That doesn’t stop him from falling deeper in love with her though. He loves her excitement about every adventure. He loves the way she laughs, even when the Tardis throws her to the grating. He loves the way the stars reflect in her eyes. He loves the way she lights up his life, and how everything is easier when they’re together.

The lines grow with his love for her. They were once concentrated to his torso, but they grow and expand, trailing over his shoulders and down his back. He is extremely grateful that the lines have yet to spread up his neck or onto his face. It’s not too hard to hide them from her now, but he doesn’t know what he’ll do if they spread above his sweater again. He may have to go back on his vow to never wear scarves again. The Tardis probably has his old 8-feet-long one somewhere.

Before he has to raid the wardrobe room for a scarf (or a turtleneck) they come face to face with the Daleks once again. He’s crushed by the realization that they survived when his people did not, but deep down he’s more concerned about Rose. He feels dead when he thinks she’s been atomized, and reborn when he sees her again. And his reborn self has one purpose: to keep the woman he loves safe. To keep her safe at all costs, even if that means he will never see her again and that he will never be able to tell her the truth, the truth that he loves her.

Keeping her safe is the most important thing to him, and before he knows it, she's in the Tardis, and he's programming it to leave. To leave and not come back. It hurts the second she’s gone. It feels like a part of him has been ripped away, like the love lines were torn off of his chest. He has to check to make sure they're still there. They are of course. The lines are impossible to remove.

He tries to channel his pain to find a way to stop the Daleks. It's hopeless, and he knows it. A small part of him isn't sure he wants to succeed. He wants to live, yes, but he doesn't want to live in a world without her. And he knows he’ll never see her again. It's impossible. He shakes his head and continues with his work.

The Doctor’s ears register a familiar grinding sound. He lifts his head and turns around. A gust of wind tickles his face carrying a sound of joy, hope, and endless possibilities with it. “How?” he asked himself. He doesn’t have a clue. But the Doctor doesn’t care. The Tardis is back and he prays to whatever gods are watching that Rose is inside. The situation is still incredibly dangerous, but as long as she is by his side, he’s confident that he can find a way out of this.

The doors to the Tardis thrust open, and she’s there. His Rose is there, but she’s not herself. “What’ve you done?” he asks.

A voice answers. It’s similar to Rose’s voice but it isn’t hers. “I looked into the Tardis and the Tardis looked into me.”

The Time Lord gasps, shock registering on his face. “You looked into the Time Vortex! Rose, no one's meant to see that.”

A Dalek fires and he freezes, expecting to see his love burn. She stops the beam of energy in an effortless movement and speaks again, “I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself. I take the words, I scatter them in time and space. A message to lead myself here.”

“Rose, you've got to stop this. You've got to stop this now,” He can hear the panic in his own voice. “You've got the entire vortex running through your head. You're going to burn.”

“I want you safe, my Doctor.” He hears Rose’s real voice break through the being which she has become. He hears her and realizes at that moment that she loves him too. He wants nothing more than to run to her, to save her from the pain the Time Vortex is causing and wrap her in his arms and never let go. But the energy takes control and she is no longer, Rose, she is a goddess. The goddess speaks and every Dalek around them disintegrates. His enemy, the enemy he has fought for so long, the enemy he sacrificed his people to defeat, vanishes before his eyes. Nothing remains of the Daleks apart from a bit of dust and a death toll felt by the entirety of the Universe.

“Rose, you've done it. Now stop. Just let go.” He pleads with her, but he’s unsure if she can hear him.

“How can I let go of this? I bring life. The sun and the moon, the day and night. But why do they hurt?” Bad Wolf speaks, but he can feel Rose as the being says the last few words. He knows she is in there. And then Rose speaks, “My head.”

He speaks softly, “Come here.” Everything that has happened is forgotten. His emotions have been a rolling sea inside of him as he watches Rose end the Time War and attempt to sacrifice herself to save him. He loves her and hates her for what Bad Wolf did but none of that matters now. All that matters is saving her and taking away her pain. “I think you need a Doctor,” he whispers as he envelops her in his arms.

Their lips meet, and he inhales, willing the spirit of the Tardis to enter him. He’s sacrificing himself, he knows that, but he was prepared to do it earlier and he’ll still do it now if it means Rose will be safe.

Instead of the golden energy filling his lungs and taking over his mind as he expects, it caresses him softly on the cheek. He opens his eyes, even though its a bit awkward mid-kiss. The Tardis is leaving her, he can see it pouring out her nose as she slowly exhales. But instead of entering him, it clings to his skin in a way that is both soft and tender.

“Not yet, Doctor.” He hears a whisper, “Not yet. Not until she knows.” The voice trails off and becomes a breeze that blows the golden light away from him and Rose. His eyes follow the swirling cloud as it flows into the Tardis, and the magic is broken when the blue wooden doors slam shut with an audible crack!

Rose slumps forward in his arms, and he catches her, laying her head upon his shoulder. They are surrounded by calm, quiet darkness, yet he feels safe.

When Rose comes to, they’re in the Tardis. The Doctor is standing in at the console, piloting the ship. Rose is slumped on the jumpseat. He gives her a small smile when he notices her watching him.

“You’re awake.”

Rose nods, propping herself up. “What happened?” she asks sleepily. “The last thing I remember was…” She trails off, and her eyes go cold.

“Rose?” he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“You,” she says, standing up and marching towards him, arms folded across her chest. “You. I can’t believe you tricked me like that!”

“Rose,” he says cautiously. “It’s not what you think.”

“It’s not what I think?!” She exclaims. “It’s exactly what I think! You tricked me! You sent me away without telling me, without asking if I consented! I promised to stay with you no matter what, and I’m not some child you can send away whenever you want just because you’re a great and powerful Time Lord!”

She stops to catch her breath and he interrupts. “Rose, I’m sorry, but that’s not why I did it.”

“Why then?” she asks, her voice cold and angry.

He sighs, running his fingers through his short, cropped hair. “Because I love you.”

Rose freezes. She shakes her head. “No you don’t.” She says it quietly, in stark contrast from what her voice had been only moments before. “If you really did you would have told me long before now, and not in the middle of an argument!” She’s yelling again.

“Rose.” The Doctor takes a step closer to the irate woman across from him. “Rose, I have loved you long before I had the courage to tell you.” The silence between them is intense. He can hear his hearts beating, and he thinks he can hear her’s too. “I’m sorry that this is what it took for me to tell you. I’m sorry that I controlled you but I was just so scared of losing you. I never thought I would see you again, yet here you are and I would be an even stupider man than I already am if I didn’t tell you now.”

He approaches her and lays his hand on her cheek. She’s still. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and barely breathes. “Rose, please forgive me.”

“Since when, Doctor?”

“Remember our first trip to the past? Remember when we went to meet Charles Dickens?” Rose nods slightly. “You walked out in that dress and I just stared up at you. And I looked into your eyes and…” The Doctor pauses. “And…” He steps back from her and shrugs off his leather jacket and allows it to fall to the floor. Peeling his jumper over his head, he finally finishes his sentence. “And this happened.”

Rose gasps as she takes in the artistic pink scrolls that cover his upper body, spiraling out from the center of his chest. “What are those, Doctor?” She asks quietly, stepping closer. She reaches out towards him, and carefully traces the lines with a finger.

He leans into her touch before answering. “Do you remember what you said to me after I insulted you?” He says the last few words with a smile.

She looks up at him and meets his eyes for the first time since he confessed his love to her. “No.”

“You asked if I was ok. You asked what the marks that had suddenly appeared on my neck were. I brushed you off.” He reaches up and holds onto her wrist, stilling her hand’s movements against him. “They were these,” he says with a look at his chest. “Love lines.”

“Love lines?” She asked.

“They appear every time I fall in love.” He opened his mouth to explain further, but she interrupted him.

“Every time?” She asked. He nodded. She pulled her eyes away from his face and dropped them to her scuffed sneakers. “Do you have any others?”

The Doctor’s other hand lifted her chin up until her eyes met his again. “No Rose. Just these. Just yours.”

And then their lips met. He wasn’t sure if he had bent down or she had reached up to him, but it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was them kissing for the first time. His arms wrapped around her back, pressing her against his bare skin and against the lines she had made. The kiss continued, and his tongue was brushing against her lips, and her lips were parting, and then his mind stopped thinking coherently.

When she finally pulled back, she was breathing hard, and the Doctor was startled to realize that his back was pressed against the Tardis console. One of her hands was on his chest, right over the point where all the lines met in the center of his body, and the other was trailing down his arm to grab his hand.

“I still want an explanation for all this, yeah?” She gestured at his chest with their joined hands. “But that can wait.” Her other hand traced one of the longer lines down to were it disappeared into the top of his trousers. “I’m curious as to where this line goes.” He turned scarlet, and she giggled. “C’mon you stupid alien,” she said dragging him off to her bedroom.


End file.
